


Don't Panic

by womanaction



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: AUish, F/F, future!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-25 07:34:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7524043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/womanaction/pseuds/womanaction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Willow wakes up to a surprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Panic

**Author's Note:**

> Requested by strongwomenandstrongcoffee for Tumblr challenge prompt: “Don’t panic but I think we might have accidentally gotten married…”

She woke up bleary-eyed, and didn’t even have enough time for regular morning contemplations like the etymology of “blear” or what she might have for breakfast. She didn’t have time because she noticed something was off right away. You live in Sunnydale long enough, you really develop a good sense of not-rightness, and this was definitely pinging her radar.

_Ping_. Not in her room. _Ping_. Not alone, judging by the warm lump on the other side of the bed. _Ping_. Shiny ring on _that_ finger. 

Couldn’t it have been one of the other nine?

She was 18, so it was legal, but whatever had caused her complete memory loss was clearly not. Willow sat up, hoping that maybe she’d see something in the definitely-not-hers room that might spark her memory. 

Huh. No hangover.

Which meant…a spell?

Okay, a spell she could deal with. Maybe it was some sort of cosmic payback for what had happened a couple of weeks ago with the Spike and Buffy smoochy-smoochy. Although it seemed like in her case things had gotten a little past the engagement stage.

Did she dare look at the other side of the bed? A million scenarios ran through her mind. Could be Oz (which would be exciting if hideously painful), or Xander (awkward and would probably end with Anya murdering them both), or some weird random like Jonathan. Definitely too small of a lump to be any of the commando guys.

Gingerly, she leaned over the prone body to get a look at his face.

_Her_ face.

Well, that was unexpected.

Willow eeped and fell back. The other woman sat up quickly. “What’s wrong?” she asked, sounding sincerely concerned. 

“Uh…you…I…don’t panic, but I think we may have accidentally gotten married.”

The woman didn’t say anything, but her eyes looked like they were laughing. Willow frowned. Something about the quirk of her mouth and those big, soft eyes seemed familiar…

“I know you,” she said. She didn’t know her name, but she’d definitely seen her around campus.

“I’d hope so,” the woman replied, that strange glint in her eye fading as she began to look more genuinely worried. She scooted a little closer and put a hand on Willow’s leg. “Sweetie? What’s going on?”

Okay, she evidently thought they were pretty friendly. “Wait, I - how is this even legal? And do you remember last night? I mean…no offense, but I think we’re a little young and - and I swing the other way, generally. Or at least I thought I did.” Excepting some confusing moments, but she thought she was past that. She’d dated Oz after all.

The woman’s face had grown grave, and Willow found that she kinda missed the coy little smile she had sported a moment ago. “Willow? Do you have amnesia?”

“Amnesia?” she repeated dully.

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Um…I went to class, and then we had a bit of a problem with a de - uh, a detractor. From our…views. Then I went to the Bronze with my friends, and came back to the dorm, I thought.”

She bit her lip. “And - what year was that?”

“1999?”

The woman’s face fell completely. Her eyes were so compassionate that Willow had to look away. Then she saw the calendar, with the date emblazoned on it: “June 2008.” On a shelf next to it sat framed pictures, clearly of the two of them and others (Buffy and Xander among them). “I don’t even know your name,” Willow found herself saying in a voice so small she couldn’t believe it was hers.

“Tara,” she offered simply, with a weak smile.

And Willow, despite her initial misgivings, smiled back. “We’ll figure this out, right?” She reached for her wife’s hand, suddenly desperate for some comfort even from a near-stranger.

“We always do,” Tara assured her, squeezing her hand.

And somehow, that seemed like enough.


End file.
